


Of Grubs and Kidneys

by skarlatha



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/skarlatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is at work. Sherlock is bored and decides to create a Facebook account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Grubs and Kidneys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michelle_A_Emerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/gifts).



> This is written in a response to my friend Michelle's prompt to write a non-angsty fanfic involving a Facebook status, a Facebook game, and a friend who isn't really a friend.

John’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his lab coat. He hands a lollipop to the little girl who just bravely endured a shot and smiles at her and her father, then pulls his phone out of his pocket as they leave the examination room.  
  
 _Bored. -SH_  
  
John sighs. He makes a mental note to bring Mrs. Hudson some flowers or a tin of biscuits to make up for the new bullet holes in the wall. His phone vibrates again.  
  
 _Do you know where you put the sugar? -SH_  
  
John blinks at the screen. Sherlock, asking for something as mundane as sugar? Was he doing something normal and making himself some tea without waiting on John to get home and do it for him? The phone buzzes.   
  
_Also, what have you done with my kidneys? -SH_  
  
John groans and texts back, muttering the words to himself as he types. “They were lying out on the counter and starting to smell. I threw them out.” The phone buzzes again so quickly that Sherlock couldn’t have possibly gotten the message before responding.  
  
 _You threw them out, didn’t you? They were part of an experiment! -SH_  
  
John dials Sherlock’s number. It goes to voicemail. John grits his teeth and texts. “They were making the flat smell like a crime scene. Answer your phone.”  
  
 _I can’t reach my phone. Sorry. -SH_  
  
“You’ve got the bloody thing in  your hands, you git!” John says out loud to his phone. Instead of texting that, though, which is undoubtedly what Sherlock wanted him to do, he just sighs and puts the phone in his pocket.   
  
There aren’t any new messages for a long time. John sees several patients and gets caught up on some paperwork, then tells the receptionist he’s going on break. He goes back into his little office and sits back in his chair, letting out a happy sigh as he lets himself relax. It’s only then that he realizes that Sherlock has been silent. His blood pressure spikes and he yanks his phone out of his pocket, a million disasters flicking through his mind like a slideshow on fast-forward.   
  
_What are you doing? -JW_  
  
 _Setting up a Facebook account. -SH_  
  
John raises his eyebrows at the phone. He distinctly remembers a shouting rant Sherlock had gone on during one of his previous bored phases about how Facebook made it too easy to find out anything about someone, took the sport out of it, made even the most ridiculously unintelligent ape feel on par with the consulting detective. John texts back with a question mark.  
  
 _I told you I was bored. Incidentally, you should give up on your hopes to get off with Naomi. -SH_  
  
John tries not to take the bait, he really does. He looks at his phone, then makes a frustrated noise and looks up at the ceiling, clenching his jaw, then looks back at his phone and texts, reading aloud again. “Why should I give up?”  
  
 _She’s a lesbian. -SH_  
  
“How do you know, you insufferable twat?” John asks his phone, then texts the question but leaves off the insult at the end.   
  
_Because she says on her Facebook page: “I am a lesbian.” -SH_  
  
Then, a few seconds later:  _I told you this site made it too easy, John. -SH_  
  
 _She’s cheating on her partner, though. -SH_  
  
John closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He wonders why he even likes Sherlock. The man is impossible.   
  
_What is “Castleville”? -SH_  
  
John groans.  _It’s a game, Sherlock. -JW_  
  
John’s break is over, so he puts the phone on silent so he can’t hear it buzz during patients. He works through another couple of hours before he sits back down for a moment and checks his phone. Nine new texts. He breathes a sigh of relief; part of him was terrified that there would be hundreds.   
  
_I’m playing it now. -SH_  
  
 _It says I need grubs. I can’t imagine what sort of person would drink an elixir containing grubs. -SH_  
  
 _I need grubs. Send me grubs, John. -SH_  
  
 _I think I need you to be my friend so I can ask you for grubs. Damn these grubs. -SH_  
  
 _I sent you a friend request four minutes ago, John. Why haven’t you accepted it? -SH_  
  
 _John! Be my friend so you can send me grubs! -SH_  
  
 _Never mind, I logged in as you and accepted my friend request. You’re now playing Castleville, John. Also, thank you for the grubs. -SH_  
  
 _Your password is not very secure, John. You should change it. -SH_  
  
 _I changed it for you. I left you a cipher on your nightstand so you can figure it out. Also, I updated your relationship status. -SH_  
  
John makes a face and wonders what Sherlock had changed his relationship status  _to_. There is no way he’s getting  anyone  to date him if his Facebook says he isn’t available. And he  _is _ available, dammit. His phone makes a noise.  
  
 _My felicitations. -MH_  
  
“Shut up,” John dictates to himself as he types. “Sherlock hacked into my account.” He presses send, but Mycroft doesn’t respond. After a few more seconds, his phone buzzes yet again.  
  
 _Anderson wants to be my friend. I declined the request. Anderson and I are not friends. We are merely acquaintances. -SH_  
  
And then, immediately after: _Besides, I already have the only friend I need. -SH_  
  
John smiles in spite of himself, feeling warm fuzzy feelings like he always does when Sherlock says something nice to him. The man is insane and probably not even completely safe to be around, but he can be very charming when the thought of being charming occurs to him.  
  
The phone buzzes again. _But you still owe me six slightly-decomposed kidneys. -SH_  
  
John leans forward and thumps his head on his desk. It’s a good thing he  likes interesting and brilliant, because otherwise he isn’t sure if he could handle this level of crazy.  
  
The crazy isn’t going to stop him from swinging by the butcher on the way home to pick up a box of kidneys, though. And flowers for Mrs. Hudson. The poor lady definitely deserves them.


End file.
